Oval Tower
by Sayonara Revival
Summary: Mizuki's stay in Oval Tower was highly traumatic and incredibly painful, but he found a dainty ray of sunshine into the darkness. Oneshot; cross-posted from my RP tumblr with small changes.


Sometimes —

sometimes, he wondered if he really was on the right path.

Was all this smiling worth something if all he got out of it was more suffering? Was it right to tell all his friends he's just fine, that he's not worried about anything (everything) when the truth was the complete opposite?

Lying wasn't good, but that's about the only thing he felt good at. Even on a good day, there he was, smiling away while wondering if everyone else was hiding things they don't want him to know about, too. These friends of his were people he could trust only a few things with; if he were to speak of his inner troubles, would they really be so accepting?

And now, he had nothing to protect, nothing left to prove hiding things had some sort of point. Dry Juice was fully in Morphine's hands. Dry Juice was no more, and Morphine would rule in its place. And why had this happened?

Oh, just a little pair of blonde demons telling him Morphine would save his Rib team. They promised the team would never want to leave, never go to Rhyme instead, never feel like leaving Mizuki behind. And it was because of his naive and selfish desire that Dry Juice became part of Morphine, wasn't it — if he had been okay with the team's members leaving him, this wouldn't have happened to them. The guilt was like everything else in his life. A never-ending winter over his head, an endless blizzard piling snow higher and higher. He'd freeze before he was crushed under the weight of the snow. Wasn't he becoming crushed under it now?

That's what they wanted.

That's what they wanted, he told himself, and it's one of a scant few reasons he hadn't given in yet. Mizuki wouldn't sit back and let them control his mind, he would go down with the biggest fight of his life if he had to. It just wouldn't get him anywhere, and it's at that point he wondered why he was fighting to begin with. Wouldn't it be easier on everyone if he gave in? The blonde demons would like that, so he hadn't yet, but in the end he's only made things harder for himself.

His eyes stared straight ahead, at nothing at all yet seeing everything wrong with his life. It's too dark in his mind for him to see the light, because their 'breaking' him was working. They were piling on regret after regret, and he was still fighting with the last of his strength, but not for much longer. Soon, he would become the lifeless puppet and be free of all worries, be the chess piece for the two demons to get what they wanted. He'd be free of everything…

Don't give in, he thought. Don't just give them what they want.

But what is not giving in even accomplishing? He'd just thought that again seconds ago. Why did that useless thought come up to his mind again? Mizuki hurt from everything, anything, and all his self-defense mechanisms were failing. Why bother? It was far easier on him and everyone if he just forfeited the battle. He wasn't going to win.

He'd already failed his team, he would fail himself too; just a matter of time. The demons were good at what they were doing.

Footsteps. Many of them. Mizuki hardly had the willpower to fight it, but mustered up a glare through narrowed eyes at the obvious leaders of the pack. He didn't listen to what they said, blocking it out of his mind because he knew they would eventually make him listen anyway; the attempt to fight against it was just a habit. In the words went through one ear — then right out the other. Vaguely, he recognized a few choice words and phrases, ones he knew were designed to take out his will sooner or later, and his gaze softened then, even though he wanted to keep glaring.

Staring past the faces and arms and hands, he struggled for less than ten seconds before the multitude of fingers and grips on his body lifted him up and rendered him immobile. Surgical masks and plenty of cold, unfeeling eyes stared at him, and as a result his pristine green eyes widened. Then again, when, if ever, had he been innocent? Maybe these people had been, at one point.

The thought weakened his willpower further.

Mizuki didn't ever ask for any of this, but it's the hand life dealt. He'd never been particularly lucky, but at the same time, never this unlucky, either… but, what could he really do about it now? The straps were being pulled over him, and after that, the mass of people disappeared, and the tattoo artist was back.

The slitted eyes no longer brought a shine to Mizuki's expression as it used to, and neither did the smile on the artist's face. He'd been through this enough to know what was about to happen. As the equipment was brought out, so came his fear. He had never been afraid of a tattoo gun before this whole chain of events… and now, the gloved hand tilted his re-tattooed neck higher into the air, bringing about a whole new anxiety in him that hadn't been there before. The seemingly unfinished tattoo sore from the last time began to hurt again, as if in anticipation for even more pain.

He shut his eyes.

The tattoo needle wasn't quick, and he laid there bound to the table for some time before realizing that buzzing noise had been the tattoo artist speaking. The one that, once upon a time, Mizuki admired. His eyes opened again, shifting to see the artist's face, knowing that even the beaming smile paired with meaningless words just wouldn't bring him any peace of mind that the next hour wouldn't be merciless and painful. He shut them again.

As the piercing feeling through delicate skin on his neck began anew, he tried to breathe deeply in an effort to slow his nerves, but it didn't work. Nothing worked; he'd learned that the first 'session', but he still tried to occupy his mind with it anyway. It didn't take long before his chest was tightened beyond anything he'd ever felt before, and it didn't take long for his mind to be preoccupied with the incredible agony a single needle brought.

The dye sank into his skin while the droplets of blood formed — in such a delicate area, it was imperative to be careful with the needle, yet the man Mizuki used to admire didn't seem at all concerned. Even as the agony continued, and a gag was placed in his mouth after he realized the volume of his whimpers, the smile remained on the man's face. How anyone could keep their smile while inflicting so much pain was just as much a mystery as how the ink could be applied in the right places with all the blood coming to the surface.

More words passed through his mind without their meanings being registered. He knew by the dizzy feeling in his head — and the steady lessening of his body's quivering without any decrease in the pain — that his consciousness was fading. Of course, he wouldn't object to this nor try to fight for it back, because it meant temporary relief from all the torturous actions.

By this, he knew he had given up, yet he had lost the desire to care for the moment. The thoughts stopped there, and only began anew when the pain had left a lot of ache in his neck. That was initially all that had taken him from the peace of unconsciousness, but if he had not felt everything else, he might not have slipped back into reality.

The softness his head rested on was warm and nothing like the chill of the ground he usually woke up on. Same for the gentle stroking on his cheeks — so feather-like that it almost felt like a dream. What was the source of these? Slowly, Mizuki opened his eyes to the blurry vision of darkness, which perhaps confused him even more. It seemed as if nothing was there…

However, the voice this time was soft and the words were recognizable. He didn't feel any sense of urgency to understand the situation, as his mind somehow felt at ease.

"Mizuki," the serene voice whispered, and the only indication of movement was the outline of a pale face in his vision. All he could see with his vision as deluded as it was would be that outline, but he began to blink to rid himself of it, and soon enough came the proper features, only half-visible in the dark environment. He'd never seen the face that appeared to him upside down. Never in his life had he seen this person. But the calmness on their face, the peacefulness of the atmosphere, and most of all, that incredibly gentle gaze…

Did it matter? Did the other's identity matter, either? Not much else did at this point anyway, because Mizuki had almost completely given in. Yet, the hopefulness he'd thought he'd lost was slowly rising — he felt it, the warmth matching the hands on his cheeks.

"You will be saved."

It might have only been four words, but the sentence alone dragged forth a deluge of feelings he didn't care to remember he had. Mizuki didn't want to be saved, he wanted to save himself. But, that wasn't really possible now, was it? Neither was rescuing Dry Juice from Morphine's clutches. Still, the feelings did not trump his comfortable mood at the moment. He stared, blinking only a few times, blankly looking at the eyes of this mysterious person.

"We will be saved." A repetition, maybe, and even then, the questions still came to a mind that was close to not caring. Something within him wanted to know more, but the apathy was still very strong. However, the more the hands cradled his face and the more Mizuki remained emotionless on the outside, the more he just wanted to know who this was…

"Who are… ?" The last word got stuck in his throat, held by uncertainty and the raspiness of his tired, thirsty voice. Yet, the other seemed to understand anyway. The smile widened just a small amount, and the caring vibe intensified.

"I am Sei," the whispered voice echoed to him. No bells were rung, but the very corners of his mouth quirked slightly anyway. Sei's presence was very pleasant. "We will soon be free… "

As much as they both appeared to lack the capacity for showing much emotion, Mizuki noticed the slight tilt of Sei's head from the angle the dark hair fell, covering one cheek more than the other despite being presumably facing down. Combined with the thumbs idly rubbing his cheeks, one running along the area his white teardrop tattoo was, Sei's aura exuded a more caring feel than he'd ever felt before, far from anyone else.

"When the savior arrives, you may fall, but you must rise again."

Ah… as much as Mizuki's clarity of mind was better than usual, he didn't understand what that meant. Or who, where, when, why a savior would come to either of them. Why Sei was here with him was yet another question his voice couldn't ask. The whispers of meanings he didn't know stumped him, but he merely stared on.

"You will rise again."

The relaxing atmosphere certainly was making him sleepier, in addition to the unknown and confusing words Sei spoke to him. His eyes drooped and he could not regain the desire to keep them open. All his negative thoughts had been absent since waking in Sei's lap, so surely he would be safe to sleep for a while longer?

Maybe.

"… Rest."

The fingers on his face lifted to brush bangs to the side, mostly out of the way. Following it, tickles of hair against his face and another warmth, with a slight tinge of wetness to it, pressed against his forehead. It left with the quietest of noises, clarifying Mizuki's thought that it was a kiss. If Sei said to, it would be all right to sleep more in his lap.

At least for now, he would be safe.


End file.
